M N8 Orange Pill

Yung bata na iniligtas ko noong maliliit pa kami ay lumaking isang possessive at obsessive na CEO. Sampung taon niya akong kinontrol, gamit ang sakit ng lola ko bilang pang-blackmail para pilitin akong magpakasal sa kanya. Sinubukan niyang gawin ang lahat para makuha ang loob ko—kahit anong paraan, ginawa niya,pero hindi ko siya kailanman minahal. Dahil sa sobrang galit, nakahanap siya ng babaeng halos kamukha ko para pumalit sa akin. Ipinagmalaki nila ang relasyon nila sa harap ng lahat, at may mga bulung-bulungan na natagpuan na raw ng CEO ang tunay niyang pag-ibig. Pero isang araw, dumating ang babaeng iyon sa villa kasama ang mga alipores niya, gamit ang atensyon at pagmamahal ng CEO bilang lakas ng loob. Isa-isa niyang binali ang mga daliri ko, sinugatan ang mukha ko gamit ang utility knife, at inalis ang damit ko para ipahiya ako. “Kahit nagparetoke ka pa para magmukhang ako, palalagpasin ko na ‘yun. Pero natuto ka pang magpinta nang kagaya ko? Grabe kang mag-aral! Tignan natin kung paano ka makakaakit ng mga lalaki ngayon!” Habang duguan na ako at halos mawalan ng malay, sa wakas dumating ‘yung obsessive na CEO. Hinila ako ng babae sa harapan niya at mayabang na nagsumbong, “Honey, itong babaeng ‘to ay nagtatago rito sa villa, tinatangkang akitin ka. Siniguro kong hindi siya magtatagumpay!”

I was lying in bed, scrolling on my phone with my pregnant belly heavy in front of me, when a local news alert popped up. 'Wife killed in suburban murder case. Husband stabbed her to death after she refused intimacy during pregnancy.' I clicked it open, only to realize the article was dated for tomorrow. And the killer's name? My husband's. At first, I thought it was some sick prank or a glitch on the site. But then I saw the photo attached to the piece: our wedding picture. My face had been completely blurred out. The moment my heart seized, the bedroom door creaked open. My husband stood there, licking his lips, his smile so chilling it made my blood run cold. "Honey, I want you tonight."

My boyfriend, Blake Finch, has passed out drunk on the bed. All I hear is his loud snores. But his roommate, Dylan Olson, begins to scoot closer to me. I can feel scorching heat rolling off his body. "Giselle, what should we do now that Blake is asleep?" A mix of embarrassment and a quiet thrill shoots through my veins, making my throat go dry. "No… Ah… Don't do this… He's going to wake up…" As soon as my voice falls, I feel a hand rest on my butt. Soon, it starts groping me.

Three months before my wedding, my fiancé, Henry Siebert, decided it was the perfect time to drop a maternity photo shoot on social media—with my foster sister, Betty Foster. The caption? Oh, just this gem: [Legally welcoming our little one into the world.] Betty added a shy emoji. And my mom? She liked the post and wrote: [Once the baby is born, I'll help take care of it so you two can enjoy your time together as a couple.] I couldn't help myself. I replied with a single question mark. And then Henry's DMs came in hot: [She's just borrowing me for a year to get married. Once the baby's born, I'll come back to you.]

On the day of Lucas' engagement, he managed to get a few lackeys to keep me occupied, and by the time I stepped out the police station, done with questioning, it was already dark outside. Arriving home, I stood there on the doorstep and eavesdropped on Lucas and his friends talking about me. "I was afraid she'd cause trouble, so I got her to spend the whole day at the police station. I made sure that everything would be set in stone by the time she got out." Shaking my head with a bitter laugh, I blocked all of Lucas' contacts and went overseas without any hesitation. That night, Lucas lost all his composure, kicking over a table and smashing a bottle of liquor, sending glass shards flying all over the floor. "She's just throwing a tantrum because she's jealous… She'll come back once she gets over it…" What he didn't realize, then, was that this wasn't just a fit of anger or a petty tantrum. This time, I truly didn't want him anymore.

We're releasing balloons on Christmas Eve when Milton Jenning's lover deliberately sets off fireworks. They explode on me, burning me severely. My back, already torn and raw from skin grafts for her, becomes even more of a bloodied mess. However, I don't ask Milton for help. Instead, I shield a recently reunited heir of a wealthy family beneath me, risking everything to save him. In my past life, Milton kicked me in the back and told me not to stand in the way of him taking his lover to the hospital. "Is it funny to you to use a child as a cover, Larissa? Even if you're pregnant, you and your baby are just walking skin providers for Rita! I must've spoiled you—how dare you do something as heinous as this!" I was blacklisted by all hospitals and ended up dying while pregnant. My heart was filled with hatred as I breathed my last breath. When I open my eyes again, I see Rita Atkinson secretly aim fireworks at the night sky and set them off. I hear her laugh manically as she says, "You and your child can die together!"

At my 25th birthday party, my childhood sweetheart got down on one knee, holding a diamond ring. "Diane, will you marry me?" I nodded, my eyes misty with tears, but just as I reached out, he slipped the ring onto my best friend's finger instead. The room went silent for a beat before erupting in laughter. "Just kidding!" Livio Becker laughed. "You didn't take it seriously, did you?" I forced a smile and looked over his shoulder at someone. "I bet he would propose tonight, and I was right. You lost the bet, so tomorrow we're getting married for real."

"Gabriella, are you really going to fly abroad and leave Owen behind?" In the quiet cafe, Gabriella Candola puts down the spoon in her hand. She then looks at Anne Lockwood, her best friend, sitting across from her at the table, who wears a flabbergasted expression. In a casual tone, she replies, "We're already divorced." "Divorced?" Anne never expects to hear such shocking news coming from Gabriella's lips. As soon as the shock passes, she begins lamenting about the injustice on Gabriella's behalf. "And Owen actually agreed to the divorce? You treated him so well over the past three years! Even if his heart were made of ice, it'd have melted by now, right? Does he really not have any feelings for you?" Gabriella just smiles in return, a glint appearing in her eyes.

A year ago, I was a rising star in the legal world. But everything changed when I uncovered evidence that my fiance's first love had caused an accident. She lured me to an abandoned factory and ruined my face, then pushed me into a toxic asphalt pit and left me to drown. Little did they know, I was pregnant with my fiance's child when I died. After my death, he had the audacity to claim that I had accepted money from a murderer and had fled the country. His actions turned me into a pariah. Meanwhile, he and his precious first love walked down the aisle together. A year later, the abandoned factory I had died in was being demolished, and someone stumbled upon my body in that asphalt pit.

“I, Alpha King Lucian, reject you; Bree Shipman as my mate,” Lucian growled and pinned her to the wall. “After all we did?” Bree broke into tears. “All of that was a mistake, I will never be with a woman like you. You are a slave and a murderer,” he yelled. “I didn’t kill her,” Bree retorted. *** Bree Shipman is a girl who went from being a princess to working as a slave for the alpha king of another pack. She accepted to her fate and continued to live her life until she committed a grievous sin. Bree killed the only family of the Alpha King, she killed his sister. Anyone who kills must be killed, according to the rules of the pack; Bree was sent to be tortured till death. After the she was pronounced dead, something strange happened. Bree woke up again. Bree, who had already been proclaimed as the cursed omega slave was ready to prove to everyone that she wasn’t who they thought she was. Alpha King Lucian who couldn’t get over his sister was also ready to make Bree’s life a living hell till she begs for her own death.